


Keep Your Hand Steady

by TearCatcher



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearCatcher/pseuds/TearCatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick marvels at how it is possible for someone to look so ridiculous yet so hot at the same time, but that's pretty much Pete in a nutshell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Your Hand Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsPeppernose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/gifts).



> Inspired by a chat with MsPeppernose about Pete's selfie process. Big thanks to her for the encouragement and beta! (Title is from the song "Explode")

“Hi, honey, I'm home!” Patrick calls as he walks into the kitchen through the garage, setting his backpack on one of the stools and tossing his keys on the island. He inwardly rolls his eyes at his own lame joke, but he finished up early in the studio today and is in a good mood. Getting no response, he ventures further into the house, calling, “Pete?” He glances out the back windows and spots Pete's white baseball cap peeking over the top of one of the lounge chairs by the pool. He walks over to the sliding glass door and is about to slide it open and announce his presence when he notices what Pete is doing out there.

Pete is sprawled, shirtless, across the chair in his huge black Pyrex shorts. His phone is in his hand, which is no surprise, but he's holding it out at arm’s length, up over his head. He twists in the chair a bit and adjusts the angle, tilting his head to one side, then seems to think better of it and twists in the opposite direction, passing his phone to the other hand. Patrick shakes his head and smiles affectionately. Pete is obviously engaged in a serious selfie session, one that will undoubtedly involve taking at least a dozen photos using different angles and facial expressions before finding one he deems suitable for posting to Instagram or, more recently, Snapchat. Sometimes, if Patrick is feeling particularly indulgent, he’ll help Pete choose which one he looks best in, although honestly he usually looks good in them all. The bastard.

Pete adjusts the brim of his cap, bends one knee slightly, and slings an arm behind the chair, preening for the camera. Patrick marvels at how it is possible for someone to look so ridiculous yet so hot at the same time, but that's pretty much Pete in a nutshell. When Pete pushes the level on the chair to recline almost all the way back, tilting his phone downward to capture more of his torso as he flexes his abs, Patrick decides enough is enough.

Pete looks over in alarm when he hears the door open, then smiles guiltily when he sees that it's Patrick. “Hey, babe,” he says, trying to sound casual, “you're home early.”

Patrick smirks at him. “Don't let me interrupt you. That's a flattering angle right there.” He rakes his eyes up and down Pete's body, taking in lean muscle and golden, inked skin - Pete's defined pecs and abs, and the ridge of v-line that disappears into his shorts. Pete has manscaped recently and everything is trimmed short - well, except areas he has shaved completely, which only Patrick gets to see. Which is a privilege Patrick wants to take advantage of right this minute, now that Pete is laid out beneath him like an invitation.

Patrick sits on the side of the lounge chair and Pete lowers the arm with his phone, but Patrick catches it and pushes it back up. “I said to keep doing what you were doing. Just act like I'm not here.” He moves his other hand to cup Pete through his shorts, gratified to feel a jolt of movement and hear Pete's breath hitch.

Pete lets out a shaky laugh. “You want to get in on this, Trick?” he asks in disbelief.

“Not your little photo shoot,” Patrick tells him. “Just in here.” He tugs at the elastic waistband of Pete's shorts and Pete looks at him uncertainly, hovering his phone in the air as he lifts his hips.

“But you want me to - what?” Pete asks shakily as Patrick pulls his shorts and underwear down together, just under the swell of his ass. Pete is already half hard, and moans low in his throat when Patrick wraps a hand around his cock, squeezing gently and feeling it pulsate as it fills with blood.

"I want you,” Patrick says softly, trailing his thumb up Pete's shaft to rub small circles where it joins the base of the head, “to keep watching yourself in the camera. I know you like to look at your pretty face. It's okay - I do too.” He leans down to cup his flattened tongue around the top of Pete's cock, barely moving it as he continues to thumb the underside. Pete groans and writhes. Patrick pulls away and Pete’s hips buck up slightly, trying to chase his mouth.

“This way,” Patrick continues, pausing to give the head of his cock a quick, hard swipe of his tongue that makes Pete's hips jerk, “you can watch yourself without worrying about it being recorded.” Another teasing lick. “And believe me, you're never prettier than when I'm making you come.”

“Oh, fuck, Patrick,” Pete moans, throwing his head back, the arm with the phone starting to drop.

“Hey,” Patrick warns, squeezing Pete's cock to get his attention and shoving at his arm again. “If you stop watching yourself, _I_ stop.”

“Okay, Patrick,” Pete says breathlessly, obediently trying to focus his eyes on his phone. Patrick knows what he’s seeing: his flushed face with a hint of sheen to it; his open mouth, pink tongue visible; his eyes half closed, pupils huge. An aroused Pete is a fucking gorgeous Pete, and Patrick is almost tempted to tell Pete they need to take this inside to the bedroom where the lube is, so he can stare down into that face himself. He even, for half a millisecond, has the dangerous thought to tell Pete to swipe over to video mode and hit the record button, but Patrick is not an idiot.

“Keep watching,” Patrick reminds him one last time as he leans down. “I want you to know what you look like for me.”

“I will,” Pete gasps, his cock straining up toward Patrick's mouth, a bead of moisture at the tip, his abs twitching as he fights to keep himself under control.

Patrick is done teasing. Now he means business. He slides down onto Pete's cock with practiced ease, pressing against the head with his tongue as he goes, working the base with his hand to meet his mouth. He falls into an effortless rhythm, allowing Pete to ride the momentum with his hips, trusting him to not thrust too hard or abruptly. Each time he comes up, he peers through his eyelashes to make sure Pete is still holding his phone aloft. Pete is staring at it through half-lidded eyes in wonder, low moans slipping out of his open mouth. Occasionally his eyes flutter a bit, but Patrick lets that slide, because Pete soon opens them again, seemingly entranced by what he sees on the display. _He's shocked at how good he looks_ , Patrick thinks with amusement, and he begins to wonder exactly what is the point in this little exercise.

Then Patrick gives it his all, sucking harder and moving faster, no longer able to check that Pete is still watching himself. He hums encouragingly around Pete's cock, and Pete lets out a throaty, desperate, “God, _Patrick_ ,” before coming in hard spurts, flooding Patrick's mouth.

Patrick laps the last bit of come off the tip before gently yanking Pete's shorts back into place and repositioning himself on his elbows over Pete's slack form. Pete is catching his breath, his arm lying limply at his side, his phone now turned off and clutched loosely in his fist. He eagerly returns Patrick's kiss, never bothered by the taste of himself in Patrick's mouth. They kiss for a long moment, Pete still breathing heavily through his nostrils, before Patrick pulls away to remark, “You're a special kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

Pete's grin is dopey, satisfied. “You love me like that.”

Patrick shakes his head, as he often does around Pete, but he leans in to kiss him again. He can't argue.

***

A couple days later, Patrick is back in the studio, producing a track for an up-and-coming band he admires, when everyone decides to take a short break. He picks up his phone, fully intending to ignore everything on it for the most part, and he sees a notification that Pete posted a picture on Instagram. He swipes it for lack of anything better to do, expecting to see a picture of one of their dogs or Pete behind the wheel in L.A. traffic. He chokes on his coffee when he sees instead the image of Pete's naked torso, cropped just above his navel, with his face only partly visible, showing the very bottom of his nose and his wet-looking mouth, teeth firmly dug into his plump lower lip. “Relaxing poolside,” the caption reads, along with the blushing smiley face emoji Pete uses to signify Patrick. Patrick's pretty sure his face looks exactly like that at this moment. He is going to _wreck_ Pete when he gets home.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I actually finished something! I have an outlet for my Fall Out Boy obsession on tumblr - coastingon-potential - if you'd like to check it out.


End file.
